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Brooklyn, Burning by Steve Brezenoff

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As a reader, one of the things I really enjoy about a book is reading about people who are nothing like me. A successful book can take me away from my world and transport me somewhere completely foreign, do it successfully and leave me with a sense of understanding and appreciation of different experiences and lifestyles. Steve Brezenoff’s sophomore ya novel Brooklyn Burning offered me just that.

A fire that began over a year ago at the old warehouse in Greenpoint, Brooklyn, is an open case. There’s no suspect in the crime, though many believe 16-year-old Kid has had something to do with it.

Who is Kid? Well, Kid is a genderless teen who lives sometimes in the streets of Brooklyn and sometimes in the basement of the bar run by Fish. Kid was madly in love with Felix, who took up residence in the old warehouse that summer. But when the fire happened, he disappeared. And now Kid is lost, shuffling among a few bar regulars who become friends, including Konny. The Konny with whom Kid has also been madly in love with; she doesn’t reciprocate the crush, though.

But this summer, someone new’s in town. Someone who, like Kid, struggles with identity and struggles to find a place to fit in. Scout quickly becomes Kid’s closest friend, but knowing what Kid knows about those who just show up for the summer, Kid’s cautious in pursuing a romantic relationship with Scout, even though there are real feelings developing between the two of them. But this might be the summer that things just change and Kid may have to come to terms with these feelings and may have to pursue one of the scariest things imaginable.

Part love story, part mystery, and part story of identity, Brooklyn, Burning was unlike any story I’ve read before. Although the description sounds a little convoluted, it can’t be explained any other way. Kid and Scout are both genderless in the story. We don’t know whether they’re male or female, and the importance of this is that it doesn’t matter one bit. Kid expresses feelings toward Felix and toward Konny, and as readers, we accept this. We have to accept this, as it’s the only way to understand why Kid chooses not to identify as either male or female, and it’s also the only way to understand why Kid develops such incredible feelings toward Scout.

This is not a quick paced book. It’s slow and deliberate, as we’re introduced to the life that Kid leads: there is little safe in Kid’s world. Although bar owner Fish lets Kid periodically stay in the lower level of the establishment, we know when the cops drop by the question Kid about the warehouse fire and to give Fish grief about serving underage clients that this living arrangement is unstable. It’s nothing that could be considered a real life. Kid’s mother and father aren’t in the picture either: even though Kid’s mother accepts the lifestyle Kid leads, Kid’s father does not. He’s delineated as downright angry, and in those brief moments when Kid does sneak time in at home, we know it’s extremely uncomfortable. We feel it right along with Kid.

Brezenoff develops an extremely sympathetic character in Kid, even if as readers we really do not get to know the character well. We know more about the circumstances surrounding Kid, but do we really know Kid? I’m not sure. And I’m not sure Kid would want us to, either. Being a teen with little stable in one’s life and with the knowledge that one’s gender identity is fluid, rather than solid is good enough. This flux is the heart of the story. We’re meant to accept Kid at face level and ride along as Kid’s accused of starting this massive fire and while Kid experiences the ups and downs of connecting with other people romantically. As readers, we bring our own experiences in love — both required and not requited — and we feel everything Kid goes through in deciding whether pursuing a relationship with Scout is worthwhile. The moments when Kid opens up to Scout are aching, as it’s here we not only get a sense of the greater context of the story but also of the immense uncertainty that exists in this 16-year-old’s life. Because we have to keep reminding ourselves that Kid is only 16, not an independent adult.

There is a lot in this story readers will latch onto, including the setting. I’ve spent no time in Brooklyn personally, and though I’ve read a few stories set in this part of New York City, the street setting here is palpable. It’s a minute setting without a huge setting, as Kid’s life really revolves within a few blocks; it’s Kid’s entire life encapsulated in this tiny niche within one of the largest cities in the world. The parallels are obvious, but they’re pretty powerful. For urban teens, this will resonate greatly, but even for readers in the suburbs or in rural areas, this still works. It gives them a glimpse into the city life but also offers the realization that even life in a big city can be small and isolated.

Then, there’s the mystery of the fire. Kid gives readers small insights into this aspect of the plot, but it’s never made a huge part of the story. Except, of course, it really is the story here: we know Kid knows something, but as readers, we’re as privy to this information as the police are. As the story unfolds though, and Kid becomes more comfortable with Scout (and with the fact Felix is not going to be coming back), we get more. It’s the big reveal about the cause of the fire that re-grounds the story in Brooklyn and re-grounds the story as one about gender politics. The pacing is spot on here, and the way the intricate strings of the story tie together here is well done without feeling moralistic or political and more importantly, it never panders to the readers.

I finished this book a couple of weeks before diving into A. S. King’s Please Ignore Vera Dietz and when I finished King’s book, I was immediately reminded of Brooklyn, Burning. Although the narrative structures and storylines aren’t the same, they’re fantastic read alikes to one another, as they tackle heavy issues of love, family, acceptance, and the importance of place. It’s a realistic story and one that throws readers into an unstable world, but one that ends with just the right amount of hope. My only real issue is that it might be a difficult sell to readers, given that the book’s difficult to describe succinctly without labeling it as one type of book. But I believe pairing it up with books of similar threads will be key to getting it in the right hands. Like always, it’s worth reading the author’s note at the very end, as well. Some of what’s mentioned there will answer your own and teen reader questions about the setting and about Kid.

Keep your eyes on this one next January. I think it has a real chance at recognition by the Stonewall Awards, a recognition for books that highlight LGBTQ issues.

Review copy received from the publisher. Brooklyn, Burning is available now.

Forgotten by Cat Patrick

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Every night before sixteen year old London Lane goes to sleep, she writes a note to herself outlining the things of importance that happened that day: she found out about a test tomorrow, she wore a certain outfit to school, she had a fight with her mother. This is necessary because her memory is wiped while she sleeps, and she wakes up not remembering a single thing that happened before.

This is already a fairly tricky concept, but Cat Patrick makes her debut novel Forgotten even trickier. Not only does London not remember what happened in the past, she does “remember” what will happen in the future. So she’ll know the answers to tomorrow’s test today, but as soon as tomorrow actually arrives, she won’t even know there was a test scheduled in the first place – unless she leaves herself a note.

I don’t know if there is a way to tell this story and manage to avoid gigantic plot holes. Patrick doesn’t find a way to do it, but she’s still crafted a heck of an absorbing read, so I was able to suspend my disbelief a little more than I’m normally willing to.

Of course, there’s more to the story than just London surviving high school with her condition without anyone catching on. (Her mother and her best friend are two of the few people who know about it.) One day, London meets Luke, a cute boy at her school, but she doesn’t have any future memories of him. Knowing her condition, she concludes that this means she won’t ever see him again. If she did, she would “remember” it.

Except she does see him again. And she continues to see him, and even starts to date him, all without ever remembering him. There is clearly something different about Luke.

And then there’s that strange memory that keeps invading London’s mind – a memory of a funeral sometime in the future, where London sees a number of friends and family members and feels a deep sense of sorrow. Whose funeral will it be? And can London prevent the death from happening?

The twin mysteries of Luke and the funeral propel the story forward. London’s relationship with Luke is sweet – she manages to convince him she remembers him day after day by keeping meticulous notes of their conversations – although it does get a little tiresome to hear her remark on how hot he is every time she meets him. Frustratingly, and this may be a bit of a spoiler so stop reading now if you’re sensitive to that sort of thing, the mystery behind Luke is never fully explained. He does have a secret, but it doesn’t have anything to do with why London doesn’t remember him in her future – that part is never explained. I could get over so many of the other problems with the concept, but this one made me a little crazy.

The mystery concerning the funeral memory is handled better. I’ve read several accounts of readers being blindsided by what they perceived as a “twist” near the end of the book, but it seemed to me like a perfectly rational explanation for the clues Patrick had placed throughout the novel. I suppose what I mean is that I treated this book as much more of a traditional mystery than others may have – I expected there to be a major solution near the end and felt the answer Patrick gave us worked well. It was logical (within the context of London’s condition, at least), fit all of the clues, and packed a pretty good emotional punch as well.

Patrick has a real sense of urgency to her writing style, making this a page turner that I wanted to finish in a single sitting. She also gave me a good sense of London’s character – I felt like I knew her, and as a result I sympathized with her and rooted for her. Overall, Forgotten is a strong debut. Even less than careful readers will pick up on its problems, but it’s enjoyable and engrossing nonetheless.

Review copy picked up at TLA. Forgotten is available now.

Between by Jessica Warman

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Elizabeth Valchar is celebrating her 18th birthday on a yacht with a few of her friends, including her boyfriend. They have a little alcohol, a little weed, and she falls asleep happy. Then she’s woken in the middle of the night by a thumping noise against the side of the boat. To her horror, Liz sees that it’s her – her own body, drowned in the sea. 
Liz is dead, and the only person to keep her company in this strange between place is Alex, a classmate of hers who was killed in a hit and run accident earlier in the year. Alex has been existing – if you can call it that – in this place for awhile, and he’s learned how it works. They can drift in and out of each other’s memories, and by doing so, they can piece together the events that led up to each of their deaths.
By moving through Liz’s (and occasionally Alex’s) memories, a picture of Liz forms. She is pretty, popular, rich, and not terribly nice. She and her group of friends treat Alex and others like him – the unpopular, the awkward, the poor – shamefully. It’s nothing personal, just how things are. But despite Liz’s privileged status, we see that she wasn’t happy in her life, either. She had been running insane amounts each day and been eating less and less. People worried she was following in her mother’s footsteps, who suffered (and died) from anorexia. 
But Liz’s problems extended beyond just the eating disorder. Something happened that led to her death, something most likely connected to Alex, and with Alex’s help, Liz will figure out what it is – and by doing so, hopefully enable her killer to be caught and Liz and Alex to move on from this between place they inhabit.
If this all sounds very familiar to you, don’t worry – it should. The premise is nearly identical to Amy Huntley’s The Everafter, which was a Morris honoree in 2010. It’s also got a lot in common with Lauren Oliver’s Before I Fall – mean girl dies and must investigate a mystery. It’s not a very original concept, and the mystery itself isn’t difficult to figure out (I deciphered both aspects of it hundreds of pages before Liz did).

Despite those strikes against it, Between is highly engaging, and I credit Warman’s writing for that. Her language flows and she’s created a great character in Liz. She starts out like your stereotypical mean girl, but like in all good books, she grows (despite being dead). And we as readers see that she maybe she wasn’t so two-dimensional in the first place. People aren’t easy, they can’t be pigeonholed, and Liz is no different. In that respect, the book is as much an education for the reader as it is for Liz.

Warman is less successful with Alex. He is vital to the story, and he needs to be present to move the plot along, but that’s all he is: a device. I never felt like I knew Alex beyond his role as a clue for Liz. This is Liz’s story, so this fault doesn’t cripple the book entirely, but it does weaken its impact. 

Even though the mysteries behind Liz’s death and Alex’s presence in the between place with her are easy to solve, there are a number of other subplots that keep the reader’s interest. What secrets does Liz’s family keep? Why had she been running so much? Liz has the unique privilege of seeing how her friends and family react to her death, which is riveting – who hasn’t thought about how their own loved ones would react to their death at some point? So although the mystery wasn’t really much of a mystery, there was enough here to keep me up late at night to finish the book.
Warman also develops a good dynamic between Liz and her friends on the yacht, particularly her boyfriend and her stepsister. The relationships between the characters are believable, and Warman convinces the reader to care deeply about Liz, despite her many flaws. That’s the mark of a good writer. 
Warman’s writing really carries this story. The central plotline isn’t original, but the writing is good enough to make it worth the read anyway. That’s not really a rousing recommendation, but I do think it speaks rather well for Warman’s skill at her craft.
Review copy picked up at TLA. Between goes on sale August 2.

Everything Beautiful by Simmone Howell

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Riley Rose is a badass.

She’s a little insubordinate, a little broken, a little overweight, and a little over it all. The thing is, though, she’s totally comfortable with who she is, despite the fact she’s experienced a loss that’s rattled her and one that’s caused her to accept a woman into her life that she otherwise hates: her stepmother. And it’s her stepmother who insists she spend a week at a camp for Christians, something Riley would never in a million years want to do. She doesn’t believe in God and she certainly doesn’t want to spend an entire week pretending around a bunch of kids who are the kinds of kids she’d never be caught dead hanging out with.

But she has no choice.

When Riley gets to camp, she finds herself an instant outsider, and she doesn’t make any effort to fit in, either. Instead, she finds herself looking around the fringes for the kids like her, the ones forced to be here, rather than the ones who chose to be here because they want to be. Lucky for her, though, she finds herself a companion in Dylan, a boy bound to a wheelchair and a boy about whom many campers whisper. There’s something about him that strikes her as important, and it’s not his disability. It’s something much deeper and something that will change her views of faith and belief — something she’d never in a million years admit could happen at a “god camp.”

This book has been on my radar for a really long time — upwards of a year. But I couldn’t find it anywhere, in any book stores or libraries near by. I finally broke down and bought it online, with the notion it was the kind of story I might fall in love with, as it combined all of the elements I love in a story. And let me say, it hit every single note perfectly.

Riley is one of the best written female leads I’ve read in a while. She’s got an attitude and a prejudice against everything, but she’s completely okay with this. It’s who she is and it’s what she identifies with. But the fact of the matter is, she’s really a hurting girl, and as readers, we’re given insight into this slowly in the way she reacts to different situations going on around her. Immediately upon getting to camp, she’s dropped into a room with two girls she classifies as “god kids,” and she’s not interested in giving them the time of day. She’s above them, better than them and what she perceives as their perfect lives. But the thing is, one of her roommates is hurting and unhappy, and it’s Riley who dives in to lend her a shoulder and an ear. She would never admit to it, and she’d never suggest she cares, but she does. She’s built a million walls around her, but the fact is, they’re all cracked and crumbling, and we’re able to see it both from her mind and from our removed place as readers.

Riley is comfortable with herself and her physical appearance, even though she can get a little defensive about it at times. She’s overweight, and she knows she sticks out amongst fellow campers for being an unathletic fat girl in a camp where there are athletes and outdoor enthusiasts aplenty. But never once does she suggest dieting, never once does she wallow in pity about her weight (other than mentioning she’s gained so much due to being put on birth control pills). This plays such a crucial role in the story, I think, and it’s a detail that would sell this title to many a reader easily.

Everything Beautiful has what might be the most wonderful romance I’ve read in a long time. Riley, despite being against everything this camp stand for, begins to find herself developing feelings for Dylan. Dylan is a bit of a camp legend, having once been one of the most athletic and strong campers; the thing is, an accident changed Dylan from an athlete to a disabled boy, and he hasn’t been forthright about the cause of the accident. By being reticent about it, he’s caused quite a stir in the camp, and many speculate about the horrible thing he must have done to get himself in that situation. And it turns him into an outcast.

Dylan’s loss, combined with the loss Riley experiences in her mother’s death, brings them together in an unexpected and sweet manner. But, of course, neither admits to it readily. Instead, they dance around their affections for one another by causing a bit of mischief and mayhem. I’m not a big romance person, as I find it often overdone in novels, but Howell nails it perfectly, and she does so in a way that never compromises either Riley’s wild independence nor Dylan’s slight aloofness.

One of the biggest themes in this book is that of belief and faith. The story is set in a Christian camp, which is meant to be an opportunity for teens to connect with one another and with their spiritual beliefs. Even though Riley is adamantly against religion and downright offended to be spending a week around people who hold beliefs completely opposite hers, this is a story of Riley learning that she is a person who has immense amounts of faith. And that’s really the crux here: faith. Howell nails the idea that faith comes in a multitude of forms and shapes, and that no one matter of having it is better or more legitimate than another. People like Riley, who have no spiritual belief system, and people like many of the other campers who hold themselves as devout Christians, can all unite under the idea of having faith, whether it’s in a God or in themselves. This revelation is such a powerful moment in the story and one that really snapped together all of the little pieces of the story I’d already liked. There really aren’t enough stories about faith and belief that aren’t overly preachy or one-sided, and I’m thrilled that this book exists to defy the stereotypes of this subgenre.

Everything Beautiful has easily become one of my favorites books for its strong characterization, powerful and believable voice, and for the well-woven themes of faith and love. This book also tackles the notion of grief quite powerfully and in a way that further proves everyone grieves differently (something I’ve talked about before). Hand this to fans of realistic fiction and to those who like sharp, biting, but ultimately aching main characters. It isn’t what I’d call a clean book, and it incorporates enough moments of humor to temper the heavier topics at hand. Bonus: this book’s set in Australia, so there’s some fun setting and slang-related writing teens who like foreign books will enjoy, but the way it’s written never becomes distracting. This back list title is worth the time to visit.

My only criticism is that I can’t get the book with the cover I’ve chosen to include here. My cover looks like this. As anyone who has read this blog knows, I hate books where a fat girl has been made skinny on the cover, and without doubt, the American publishers chose to create a cover which makes 180+ pound Riley into a thin girl.

Book reviewed from a personal copy.

Bad Taste in Boys by Carrie Harris

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Kate Grable is a math and science nerd. She wants to be in the medical profession in her future, and she’s been lucky enough to play doctor to the high school football team during their season. Not really a doctor, of course, more like a student trainer and assistant to the coach. Lucky for her, it’s an awesome resume-builder and it lets her hang close to the guy of her dreams, Aaron.

During the course of the season, Kate becomes suspicious of coach, though. It seems like he’s slipping his players some sort of steroids. Which is illegal, of course, and dangerous for the coach (if he gets caught), for the players (it’ll ruin their bodies), and for Kate (a permanent dent on her record and surefire way not to get to med school). Bad as that would be, it’s actually a whole lot worse. Coach hasn’t slipped his players any sort of steroids. He’s slipped them something much more dangerous, something that could change the entire face of this high school for good. And coach himself might have imbibed in this dangerous poison.

When every hunky guy in school suddenly becomes a flesh-eating, mindless, horrifying zombie, well, Kate knows she’s in for the type of experience that might get her into something a little different than a medical school.

Bad Taste in Boys does exactly what I need in a paranormal book: it combines a realistic setting, a driven main character, and funny writing into a story that pushes the limit of the absolutely absurd. See, I don’t usually like paranormal books because they try hard to be serious or to delve into a topic with some sort of deeper layer of meaning. I know not all do, but many do try to make some sort of greater point. The thing is, when I sit down to enjoy a paranormal book, I want something so out there that I’m laughing out loud. I want my mind to not be thinking of something greater or deeper, and fortunately for me, this zombie romp is a comedy of the strange.

Kate is an extremely relatable character. She’s a passionate girl who not only wants to do well in school, but she finds ways to put her passion into practice. She’s not one-sided though; we have the opportunity to see her engaged in friendships and in her family relationships, and we have the chance to see her swooning over Aaron, the boy of her dreams. Kate is smart and savvy, and throughout the course of her interactions with the football team, we see she’s quite a likable character, too. And when things go south — and they go south fast — she uses her brain to concoct a solution. What I think I appreciate about Kate more than anything in this book is that she is not dependent on anyone but herself to solve a problem. Many books, especially mainstream paranormal titles, fall into the boy-saves-girl trope, and Harris’s book avoids this. Even when Kate crushes hard, she never forgets who she is and what her own end goals are.

Bad Taste in Boys is a fast paced read, as the action picks up nearly immediately. I should note that it’s also a bit of a gruesome read in this effect, as the zombie virus causes members of the football team to engage in behavior that leaves some with scabs and leaves some with dismembered body parts.

But here’s the thing: it is really, really funny.

Throughout the course of the story, I found myself laughing out loud more than once. As much as Kate’s a headstrong character, she’s also funny. Her observations about the zombie situation, which could easily become scream-worthy scenes, are alight with humor. It’s no big deal when coach loses her foot and, you know, Kate carries it around. When Kate walks over the dead body of one of the football team’s family members, she could break down and lose everything, but she doesn’t. Instead, she makes some environmental observations that detract from the grim situation and instead, offer a good laugh.

Although I found myself engaged with this story, I had a challenge with the ending of the book. This is a short book — just about 200 pages — and the subplots are what really drew me in. Near the end of the book, readers discover the answers to dozens of questions that arise throughout, including why Kate felt responsible for solving the zombie outbreak, why coach slipped his players this zombie serum in the first place, how the zombie virus could be reversed, and what happens to those responsible for creating this chaos in the first place. When things had a chance to fall into place, it felt a little rushed; I wanted to know more about the consequences of the coach and his provider’s actions. I was extremely curious, too, what the later effects would be on the players and on the school. An extra chapter or two exploring this or perhaps leaking some of these questions a little sooner may have tightened it up for me.

That said, Bad Taste in Boys is a light paranormal read, brimming with laugh-out-loud moments and a lot of zombies. Who hasn’t imagined their high school football team turning into a horde of zombies? Pass this book off to your paranormal fans, as well as those who humorous stories. And naturally, it’s one to add to your ever-growing list of zombie lit, and it’s one that stands out from the crowd for its unique take on how to reverse the disease.

I bought this bad boy.